Preis der Seele: Price of the Soul
by Queen Eli
Summary: Luck Gandor learns of the existence of Puella Magi one afternoon. His life will change, but not necessarily for the better. Magic isn't always a good thing. [Set in modern day, co-authored by Isis Lied. Crossover with Puella Magi Madoka Magica. Rating will go up.]


[While technically this is a crossover, I didn't list it as such so that it'd show up in the Baccano! listing and people could read it. There are mentions of characters from PMMM, but none of them, other than Kyubey, officially appear. I do dearly hope you all enjoy this story, and remember to check out my friend Isis Lied if you haven't, as she's an amazing standalone author on her own. Enjoy the ride~

-Eli]

_**Chapter One: I Saw Him in a Dream, or Something**_

The clock buzzed at twelve o' clock, and Luck couldn't help but whine half-heartedly as his right hand fumbled for the "dismiss" button. Some decades ago, he would've been up much earlier, sometime before the sunlight started to creep through the curtains and onto his bed, but time changed people. You lived for a couple decades, and a routine because obsolete. Sitting up in bed, Luck rubbed wearily at his still sleep-heavy golden eyes, bracing his heels against the bed as he brought his knees up.

He'd had the strangest of dreams last night.

_This was most definitely the city, but there was so much wrong with it. Buildings and roads floated as if suspended in mid-air, and it seemed that most of the vehicles had already been destroyed. Luck stared in half-awe, half-terror at the strange scene, wondering if he'd somehow wandered into the brain of an impressionist. _

_As he watched the scene more carefully, he could see, in the distance, something that most closely resembled a black mass of winding gears and chains. From around the mass, it seemed to be producing miniature versions of itself, all of which seemed to be attacking a singular target: a boy, dressed in a black dress that flared out at the waist, purple-black stockings, and shining black shoes, unblemished even when the gears surrounded him in a swarm. Despite his odd clothing, he seemed to be keeping his own, blasting them away with a few well-placed, close-range shots from the rifle he held, but he was quickly overwhelmed by more of the strange creatures._

_Against his will, and not knowing if the boy could hear him, Luck called "No!", taking a step forward. He was stopped by a voice behind him murmuring quietly;_

"_It can't be helped, there's nothing you can do." Luck turned around, shock apparent in his eyes as he noticed that the one who had been speaking to him wasn't human. Rather, it was a tiny Singapura, sea green eyes wide and unblinking, face devoid of any emotion. It lifted one of its paws and licked it daintily. "This is too much to handle alone, but he knew that, and came here anyway. He's the only one left, now. If he gives up, it's all over."_

"_You mean, if he doesn't kill that—whatever it is, we all die?" The cat nodded, and for the first time in a long time, Luck felt fear course through his veins as he curled his hands into fists._

"_But, you do have a chance to change this fate." The cat spoke again, getting to its feet and padding over to sit by Luck. "Make a contract with me, and become a Puella Magi, a Magical Boy! You'll have enough magic at your fingertips to destroy that thing, and hundreds more!"_

_A Puella Magi? Luck had heard of them. They had been nothing but fairytales to him, but this cat, whatever it was, was offering to let him become one. "...could I really be that strong?"_

"_Of course! All you have to do is make a wish worthy of trading your soul for."_

"_Don't do it!" The voice, strangely familiar, ripped through the air, strangled and desperate. Just as Luck was turning to see the boy behind him, bracing himself against one of the flying chunks of asphalt—_

The dream had ended there.

It had been a long time since Luck had dreamed any kind of dream. Immortality took a lot out of you, and when you were as tired of life and the daily races as Luck was, it left you with nothing to dream about. This had seemed less like a dream, and more like a message, though, Luck thought as he pulled on a fresh change of clothes, went to brush his teeth and slick back his hair.

Oh, who was he kidding? It had been a dream, nothing more.

Exhaling slowly, he decided that there was only really one way to quell his restless mind. Besides, it had been a long time since he'd spoken to Firo to begin with.

Luck left his house that afternoon, unaware that he was not leaving alone.

**[xxxx]**

It was a quaint stroll down the familiar, brick-laden street to the small diner that he often frequented with Firo. His polished shoes (because even now, decades later, Luck could not dress informally) clacked in time with his whistling, completely unaware of the shadowed figure of a feline like creature following in his steps. The sky was a deep blue, almost cobalt, despite the heavy clouds that peppered his view. He found himself drawn to the sky, remembering the dream of suspended buildings and the boy— the familiar visage of a brown-haired youth fighting through pillar after pillar against some sort of unspeakable beast.

Luck shook his head; only a fool dwelled on an incomprehensible dream. He had heard faintly of fortune tellers and dream-readers (something familiar to him, actually, given that he lived through Sigmund Freud's 'halcyon days') through his long, steady life, but he never was one for such frivolities. Despite being immortal, the secular man wasn't one to fall for petty superstition—perhaps without the fear of death looming over his shoulder he didn't feel the need to investigate every strange happening in his tumultuous life.

It was around noon that Luck spied the familiar, conspicuous building hiding between two taller, brick buildings. Trotting across the street, Luck couldn't help the small smile that briefly passed his lips. The diner was a family-run joint that had, at one point, ties to the mafia— or more specifically, the Gandors. But now it was run by a friendly elderly couple who didn't look twice when the pair walked in, their usual seat by the window that overlooked the view of the bustling street open and waiting for them.

Luck slid into the red booth, finding that the younger man had already been given his regular order. Firo Prochainezo gave a toothy smile to his old friend, fork in hand.

"Glad to see ya made it, Luck. How was your mornin'?"

The man gave a sigh, tired eyes turning to the traffic for a moment. His vision glossed over as he stared transfixed at the sidewalk. For a moment he thought he saw the ghost of the boy— the one from his dream, walking across the same crosswalk as he did moments before entering the diner. Except, he was going in the opposite direction, pace quick and agile through the crowds.

"Luck? You alright? Ya lookin' kinda pale." Firo offered, taking a sip of his drink. He gave his friend a sympathetic look, cinnamon eyes filled with compassion.

Luck was alone even after all these years. Firo had Ennis and Czes, which was more than he could have ever asked for. But not Luck. The poor immortal only had his brothers, but even they weren't around much anymore, and sometimes Firo wondered if the smiles Luck gave him were just as forced as the ones he gave strangers. He wondered it just as often as he questioned if he would one day have to kill his best friend.

"I'm fine, Firo. Don't worry 'bout it." The golden-eyed immortal smiled, gaze turning to the window once again.

Unsure on how to breach the touchy subject of Luck's social life, Firo took his words lightly, giving a sigh in turn. It was soon after that Luck's meal was brought to the table and the two drifted into casual conversation. Once both of their plates were empty the pair left the diner, giving their waiter a gracious step before setting off in the same direction.

Luck had planned to spend the rest of the evening at Firo's place (it didn't do an immortal any good to be alone for too long a time), looking forward to catch up with Ennis and Czes.

It was when the pair had just passed the old, abandoned factory a few blocks from Firo's apartment that Luck spotted a flash of silver-white and crimson. It was the same Singapura from his dream, though its fur was matted with blood and it limped pitifully into the shadow of the factory.

_'Luck...help me…' _Luck heard it murmur before squeezing through an open door.

"Firo, come on!" With little explanation, the golden-eyed man grabbed his friend's arm, dragging him towards the factory.

"Whoa! What's gotten into ya all of a sudden, Luck?" Firo questioned, confusion marring his handsome features.

Not responding, Luck pushed on, climbing over the chain-link fence with ease before sprinting towards the door he saw the animal push through. Thoughts racing, the man only listened for the sound of Firo's footsteps and heavy breathing behind him and the faint pitter-pat of the cat's paws against the concrete flooring.

The inside of the factory was empty and dim, what appeared to once be large, overhead lights, smashed. Broken glass littered the floor as Luck scooped up the bleeding animal, cradling it to his chest. Every movement echoed in the atrium-like building, amplifying the sound of footsteps coming towards him.

It was then that Firo grabbed his shoulder, looking at the wounded animal with a mix of curiosity and pity. "So that's what ya saw, huh? No wonder you didn't respond. Do you think the little guy's gonna be alright?"

The animal gave the equivalent of a huff, sea green eyes narrowing. _'I am not something to pity. I am called L, and I need your help. Someone's out to kill me.'_

"Did you hear that, Luck? I swear the cat just—"

"Spoke? I've been hearing its voice for a while now…" Luck responded coolly, feeling a sudden shiver to his right. Craning his neck, he saw the shadowed silhouette of the same brown-haired boy from his dream. His heeled shoes clacked noisily against the concrete, face emotionless as he pointed a gun at the injured bundle in Luck's arms.

"What are you doing? Can't you see it's hurt?" He asked, finding his emotions starting to overwhelm him thanks to the injured animal. Despite the weapon, he pulled L closer to his chest, his hand going over its head like an infant. The boy gave no response, though Luck could see the cobalt blue hues of his eyes narrow in the darkness.

"Why do you want to kill this cat?" Luck questioned sharply, eyes narrowing. He felt a sudden swell of protectiveness over the small feline curled in his arms; he was not going to let the boy near the animal without a damn good reason.

"Just drop the monster and leave. This has nothin' to do with either of ya." He quipped back, settling the barrel dead center at the animal's face.

_'He's lying! I'm not a monster!'_ L cried, burrowing further in Luck's strong grasp.

The caramel-haired man had to suppress a gasp; he wasn't able to see the man's face in the dream before, but it was obvious who it was now. From the shadows Dallas Genoard crept forward, frowning darkly. It had been decades since he'd seen the man, and had assumed, as everyone else, that the trouble-making brat was long gone— dead and buried, so to speak, whether or not he got a faulty sip of the elixir.

Before Luck or Firo could question the man further, the echoing factory began to shimmer and dissolve, colors and shape fading altogether.

"W-what's going on?" Firo gasped, moving closer to Luck as their very reality shifted and churned like ocean waves. The old, weathered appearance of the atrium was soon drowning in color and sound, a cacophony of visual stimulus that overwhelmed the pair of immortals. Everything burned in shades of canary and crimson, causing Luck to squeeze his eyes shut.

_'It's a Witch's Nest. A Witch's familiar is probably nearby.'_

It was right after L's voice echoed in his head that the familiar, rapid-fire noise of a pistol, some of the slugs burying themselves in the ground with unusual explosions at Dallas's feet, blowing him back a few feet. He managed to steady himself rather quickly, curling his lips back when a yellow glow broke through the dark haze around the edge of the Nest, held by a gloved hand. Luck immediately reached for his own pistol that he kept in the breast of his coat, cradling L still in the other arm, but stopped as soon as he heard the voice, punctuated with a heavy Italian accent that he hadn't heard in years;

"Sorry I was so late, I ran into the Nest a little while back." It was none other than Keith Gandor, holding a dark golden orb-like gem in his hand that emitted a good bit of light around them, making the strange little images of butterflies, cotton balls, and assorted other out-of-place objects more visible. His eyes wandered over to Dallas, and Keith frowned, his face clearly stating everything he wasn't saying; _Leave them alone._

Dallas tsked in annoyance, lowering his gun reluctantly before disappearing deeper into the factory with a curse.

"Stay here, you two. I'll kill the familiar and explain everything." The deep voice of his brother rang out again, echoing as he set off to end the illusion.

"Or you could just explain it to us right now," Firo squeaked, obviously frightened of the enemy he had never encountered before, and also extremely confused. Luck shared in his confusion, but he only pressed closer to his friend, letting him cling as Keith stepped in front of them, a coil of chain falling in a circle around them. He trusted his brother to protect them, even if he couldn't fully explain what was going on. Besides, Luck's duty was to the hurt little L in his arms.

"I'd love to," Keith stated, his eyes following the pattern of cotton balls, which now seemed to be making their way towards them. "But it's going to have to wait while I finish this up." And with that, the orb lifted from his hand, its glow becoming so bright that it was overpowering. Just like that, the elder man—or, at least, his outfit—began to change, starting from his shoes.

The thick, heavy-soled black dress shoes changed quickly into brown leather Mary Janes, with off-white socks that ended at his knees. The pants and dress shirt were replaced, too, with a deep brown, round-necked, sleeveless breast care Lolita classic, a lace-trimmed white shirt under it. Finally, the orb adhered itself to his hat, changing it to a fitting black cap with three white feathers hanging from the back, held in place by the orb, which had, itself changed into a flower shape. He stood on a pillar the Nest had created, balancing expertly with one foot in front of the other,

Transfixed from the transformation, the other two barely noticed that he'd pulled a musket from seemingly nowhere, pointing it at the now rapidly advancing cotton balls and butterflies. Keith pulled the trigger so fast that it almost didn't look like he was doing it, but the blasts from the gun and impacts the bullets made, made it clear that he was aiming to destroy. Many of the strange objects had disappeared from Keith's powerful shooting, but just as he'd trained the muzzle of the musket towards the center of the chaos, it started to disappear. The eye-popping surroundings began to flicker and fade, returning the factory back to its usual state. Keith managed to kick off of the pillar just before it disappeared, landing on the ground near Luck and Firo, his outfit changing back to the one he'd been in previously, catching the gem in his hand as it fell.

"Neva' thought I'd see the day," Firo laughed airly, a wry grin spreading across his face as Keith approached. "What was that?"

Keith smiled back, but didn't respond as he crouched in front of Luck, examining the creature in his arms. "Thank you for saving L, she's a dear friend of mine. I was worried about her—and you. Stumbling right into a Witch's Nest." Luck looked away as Keith pressed the gem to the cat in his arms, feeling just a bit ashamed that he'd needed to rely on his big brother to save him.

The gem seemed to heal the cat's wounds, and it—or, according to Keith, she—popped right back up, sea green eyes bright, silver-white coat back to its gleaming health. _'Thank you, Keith!'_ She jumped from Luck's arms to the elder man's shoulder, rubbing her head against him. Then, they both turned as the sound of heels clicking on the ground alerted them to the presence of another, Keith's eyes narrowing at the man who'd returned.

At the sight of Dallas, Luck and Firo were no longer shocked or scared, and gave him their coldest glares as Keith spoke. "...the Witch got away. You can go after it if you want, I'm not interested, and I'm sure your Soul Gem would benefit from it." Dallas's teeth clicked together audibly.

"I still got business here."

"You really don't get it, do you?" Keith's tone darkened. Dallas took a step back. "It means I'm willing to overlook this. On your way." He didn't sound like he was asking, and even Dallas seemed to be smart enough to know when it was time to hit the bricks. Not saying anything, he let his anger reflect in his deep, cobalt blue eyes, shuffling back into the darkness. Turning back to Luck and Firo, Keith's featured softened, as did theirs. "This must be a lot for you to take in already, but there's a lot more to explain."

_'After all,'_ L spoke again, ears twitching. '_We should go home to explain, so that you two can make contracts with me, too, and become Magical Boys!'_


End file.
